


Not an Exact Science

by kerravon



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Explosions, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, Kavanagh is an idiot, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-02
Updated: 2012-11-02
Packaged: 2017-11-17 13:54:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/552274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kerravon/pseuds/kerravon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before "Trinity", Radek gets a stomach flu.  But is anything ever that simple on Atlantis?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not an Exact Science

"Give me Optican, Collins, and Zelenka if he's over that stomach flu."  
-Rodney McKay, 'Trinity'

1\. Just a Little Bug

"Dr. Zelenka, were you here all night?"

Zelenka startled awake, head jerking up from where it had been resting on his folded arms. Glasses askew, he blinked blearily at Miko, and the Japanese scientist gave him a tentative smile. Taking a deep breath to clear the cobwebs, he held it for a moment, puffed out his cheeks, then slowly exhaled through pursed lips as he glanced around his workstation. His laptop had gone into 'hibernate', and the remains of his coffee were stone cold. Cursing to himself, he glanced at his watch. '5:30 already? The briefing is in half an hour!' 

He returned her smile gently, knowing how painfully shy the young woman could be. Carding a hand through his thinning hair in a futile attempt to smooth it, he replied, "I must have nodded off during my simulations. Thank you for waking me." Straightening his glasses and pushing them back onto the bridge of his nose, he hurriedly stood and gathered up his computer.

The other scientist nodded politely and went on her way as Radek rubbed at the two-day stubble on his face on the way out the door. He had time to either shower and shave or catch a cup of hot coffee and a bite to eat before the weekly science department conference. Breakfast won out as his growling stomach made its opinion heard, so he shifted his Dell to the opposite hip and headed to the mess hall.

Once there and confronted with the limited choices available, he found that he wasn't as hungry as he had thought. Ultimately he asked for a bowl of oatmeal and a cup of coffee and sat at a table in the corner where he could compose his notes. With Meyers and Sorenson both ill, he was desperately short of personnel for the number of ongoing projects, and needed to make that clear to the remainder of the department. His people could not be commandeered unless it was a life-or-death situation. Opening up his laptop, he was engrossed in his planned presentation when a second tray plopped down next to his. Startled, he shot a quick glare at the new arrival, then went back to work with a snort.

"How's it going, Radek?" asked McKay, digging into his own heaping plate of eggs, sausage, and hash browns.

Zelenka stared at him over the rim of his glasses before savagely shoving them back up his nose. "I am trying to prepare for staff meeting," he replied.

"Oh, yeah," McKay commented, gesticulating with his fork. "It's a lot easier when you're the boss; all I have to do is listen." Staring off into space for a moment, he mused, "Of course, even that can be occasionally challenging…."

The Czech stared disapprovingly at the physicist's tray, feeling vaguely nauseated by the sheer quantity of grease evident. "I will know soon enough. When you have inevitable heart attack, Weir will put me in charge."

Rodney chuckled good-naturedly as he cleaned his plate. "Hey, you know what they say; 'Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we may die'." He gestured to his tray, "If this is the most dangerous thing I do today, then it'll be a first." So saying, he slugged down the dregs of his beverage and stood. "I'm getting another cup for the road; you want one?"

Radek shook his head; to tell the truth, he no longer wanted his first, nor the remains of his oatmeal. "No, thank you. I shall be along momentarily." After McKay had gone, he put the finishing touches on his notes, then shut down the computer and headed to the conference room.

The room was stuffy and cacophonous, and Radek found himself sweating as he sat next to Isaacs in the second row. The nausea that had begun in the mess hall worsened in the heat, making him wish fervently for his cool, quiet lab. Fortunately the man next to him was disinclined to conversation, which suited Zelenka just fine. He rubbed a hand across his forehead, grimacing at the sweat he encountered, as he booted up his notes.

The meeting stretched on forever. Fortunately, as Radek's department was working on several high-priority projects, his presentation was one of the first.

He clambered nervously to his feet, glancing around the room without really meeting anyone's eyes. "Engineering is badly shortstaffed this week. We already have two people in the infirmary with a stomach flu, and I am afraid that more may follow." He savagely suppressed the small internal voice that murmured, 'Like you'. He didn't have the time to be sick; there was just too much to do.

"Our priority right now is Jumper repair, as that directly impacts our mission in this galaxy. Our research and development team is still defining the subroutines to isolate environmental controls in certain sections of the city, so repairs can be made to individual rooms without shutting down whole areas simultaneously. Additionally, repairs to the inhabited, damaged areas of the city are proceeding as scheduled."

He looked up at this point and met McKay's quiet gaze. "Needless to say, we do not have personnel to spare to any other projects at this time, unless it is an absolute emergency." 

Seeing McKay's nod, he relaxed. He abhorred public speaking, but this had to be said. Looking around at his audience, he was pleased to see several people nodding their understanding as well. He suddenly recalled that Ames in Biology had made a similar request last week, which explained the sympathetic grimace on his face. 'I wonder if he had that flu as well?' He sat heavily in his seat, trying to pay attention to the rest of the meeting through the fog that filled his brain. Nevertheless, Zelenka found his mind inevitably wandering as the reports droned on.

He was jerked back to the present by a sharp nudge in the ribs. Eyes flying wide, he glanced up to see half the room staring at him. McKay's arms were crossed as he irritably tapped his foot.

"Dr. Zelenka, I asked if the engineering department could spare someone to help Chemistry with their…project." His tone of voice gave the Czech a clear understanding of the minimal priority McKay gave the 'project', but Radek was annoyed that it had come up at all, given his earlier plea.

Shaking his head violently, he replied, "No, no. Perhaps next week. Too much to do this week, with too few people." He immediately wished his response had been verbal alone, as the room swung dizzily with his head movement.

"You don't even know what we're talking about!" cried Kavanagh in frustration.

The Czech, still hoping that the room would stop wobbling, shot the chemist a withering glare as he ticked off the points on his fingers. "One: as I said earlier, we are short-handed this week with two of my staff in infirmary. Two: Dr. McKay asked for engineer rather than demanded one, meaning that it can wait. Three: the initial request clearly comes from you." He shrugged theatrically. "What more need I know?"

Several chuckles could be heard, infuriating the pony-tailed scientist who folded his arms and sulked for the remainder of the session. Zelenka tried to keep his mind on the discussion, but found it challenging. The room had gotten hotter over the course of an hour, and the walls swayed eerily in the corners of his vision. Zelenka bolted for the corridor when the meeting adjourned. He paused to wipe the sweat from his forehead once again before heading to the Jumper bay to check on the progress his team was making repairing Jumper 6.

"Doctor Zelenka, a word," called a voice. Radek halted against his better judgement, closing his eyes, but did not turn around as the pony-tailed American caught up to him. Puffing slightly, the chemist continued, "I don't believe you actually heard what we need the engineering department for."

The shorter scientist resumed walking. "As I said in the meeting, I do not have the personnel to spare." He really didn't feel like have this conversation right now. The decking undulated nauseatingly as they traveled, and it took a great deal of concentration not to lurch into the walls. He would not display weakness to this man.

"But if you'd just listen!" Kavanagh grabbed him by the shoulder, spinning him around to where he could use his height to try and intimidate the Czech. 

Zelenka managed to disguise the fact that the corridor was still spinning, although he finally silently admitted that he was ill. And when he got ill, his normally mild demeanor became…testy. Through narrowed eyes he stared pointedly at the offending hand until the other man shifted nervously and removed it. Lightening-fast, Radek switched his glare to Kavanagh's face, capturing his eyes in a steely gaze. "Do not ever do that again, understand?" he hissed. The American gulped and took an involuntary step backwards, nodding apprehensively, then beat a retreat down the corridor. The Czech scowled after him until he disappeared around a corner, then continued on his way unmolested.

In the Jumper bay, he found that O'Banyon had the Jumper Six repairs well in hand. After asking a few perfunctory questions, Zelenka nodded, satisfied with the work; nevertheless a vague wrongness permeated his thoughts. He and O'Banyon mapped out the next steps in the repair process as he tried to pin the feeling down.

Suddenly realization dawned. "Where is Dr. Krycheck?" he asked, glancing around for the scientist.

O'Banyon grimaced. "I sent him to see Beckett after he lost his breakfast on the decking this morning."

Zelenka closed his burning eyes and rubbed his throbbing temples. "So, we are short another person," he sighed. Opening his eyes again, he stared over his glasses at the scientist. "Why didn't you tell me? I can rearrange personnel so that…"

The grease-covered engineer shook his head and smiled. "Actually, we were ahead of schedule when he took ill; we'll finish on time. I didn't want to bother you unless I needed help," he replied aloud, adding under his breath, 'And you look worse than Ben did…'

Zelenka hesitated. "If you're sure…"

O'Banyon made shooing motions with his hands. "Go on. We're fine here. Don't you have to meet with Weir or something?"

Glancing wide-eyed at his watch, Radek nodded. "Yes, I do, in about thirty minutes." He rubbed the rough stubble on his chin again and mused, "I really should clean up a little first…"

"You do that," suggested the other man as he propelled him towards the door.

Zelenka turned and left the Jumper Bay. The thought of speaking to their beautiful commander energized his flagging spirits, and he strode purposefully towards his quarters.

By the time he reached them, however, he wanted nothing more than to lie down and sleep for a month. 'I must have picked up that bug Meyers, Sorenson, and now Krycheck have,' he worried, remembering the mess when the redhead woman had not quite made it to the sink and vomited on the lab floor instead. He would have been mortified, but she was too sick to care. Shaking his head in denial, he bypassed the bed and headed for the bathroom. 'I'm fine,' he told himself firmly. 'I don't have time to be sick. There is too much to do,' he concluded as he stripped off his clothes from the night before and stepped into the shower. The scalding hot water revived him and by the time he shaved and put on a clean uniform, he felt human again. The room was too warm, so he dialed down the thermostat on the way out.

'If I must be sick, it will have to be later,' he thought as he headed down the hall.

2\. No Rest for the Wicked

The energy he got from the shower rapidly faded, and the trip to the Gateroom became interminable. By the time the stairs to Weir's office hove into view, he was unsure if he could even stagger up them. He took a deep breath, then concentrated on mounting them one at a time, with his eyes only on the next stair. To his surprise, he eventually found himself at the top and standing in front of Weir's door. He tentatively raised his hand to knock; Weir bade him enter with a smile.

Radek went through the updates by rote, referring frequently to his laptop for the exact numbers and projections. Of course, this was nothing unusual; his reports usually smoothed out once he got over being tongue-tied. This woman made him feel like a sixteen-year-old with his first crush! Still, she always maintained a professional demeanor, and once he became involved in the data he was presenting the report went well. As he exited the office he paused and took a deep breath to steady his nerves before trudging back to the lab.

At first he thought he had entered the wrong room; it had only half its normal complement of personnel. He caught sight of Miko working diligently at a far table, and headed over to find out why. The young woman hadn't heard him enter so he cleared his throat to announce his presence.

"Oh, Doctor Zelenka!" she exclaimed as she whirled around. She leaned forward in concern and examined his face near-sightedly. "You do not look well, sir," she hazarded nervously.

He ignored the comment as irrelevant and gestured to the half-empty room. "Where is everyone?"

Her eyes flicked towards the floor. "They are all in the infirmary. Morrison actually fainted. Beckett's team had to carry him out on a stretcher." She finally raised her eyes to his. "But the doctor told me that this is only a," her eyes rolled as she tried to recall the exact phrase, "Twenty-four-hour bug". The Japanese scientist smiled reassuringly. "He expects both Meyers and Sorenson to be released to their quarters later today, although they won't be able to work for a while." 

Zelenka nodded wearily, his own eyes involuntarily sliding shut from exhaustion. 'Just what I need…' he thought.

His contemplation was interrupted by Miko's gentle, hesitant voice. "Sir…perhaps you should have Doctor Beckett to examine you as well…"

Biting back his instinctive retort, he realized that his temper was unnaturally frayed due to feeling unwell. Instead he rubbed his forehead ruefully and answered, "You might be right; I will try to later. For now, could you update me on where we stand on…"

His thoughts were drowned out by the blaring of his comm. "Doctor Zelenka! Report to Chemistry IMMEDIATELY!" Radek winced and pulled out his earplug slightly as Kavanagh's scream threatened to burst his eardrum, then tapped the button to reply.

"Doctor Kavanagh, I thought we went through this…"

"NOW, Zelenka! It's an emergency!"

There was no mistaking the panic in the chemist's voice so, shrugging apologetically to Miko, he answered, "On my way," and left at a slow jog. Chemistry was just down the hall and he moved as fast as his rebellious stomach would allow.

As he approached the lab he increased his pace when he saw the dark smoke billowing from the open doorway. Techs were pouring out, coughing and gasping for air while he entered chaos. People ran willy-nilly on pointless errands until almost overcome by smoke, causing such confusion that Zelenka's aching head was unable to discern the source of the problem. "Excuse me…" he began, trying to catch the attention of a passing chemist.

The rushing man didn't hear him. Radek raised his hand to try again when a bellow erupted from the far side of the lab. "I need that fire extinguisher NOW!" The voice clearly belonged to Kavanagh, so at least Zelenka knew in which direction the disaster lay.

He hurried over, shoving his way unapologetically through the throng. When he could finally see the source of the problem, the engineer's eyes widened in alarm. In front of him stood the smoldering, partially molten ruins of an unknown Ancient device, belching smoke and glowing menacingly as it crouched on the table. Kavanagh, carefully not touching the mechanism, seized the proffered fire extinguisher and pointed it at the melting machine.

Zelenka, images of explosions dancing before his eyes, surged forward. "No!" he cried. "You don't know how it will react!"

Not lowering the red canister but not firing it, Kavanagh glared at the new arrival. "It's about time you got here. We have a problem." He gestured emphatically towards the smoking metallic mass.

Zelenka's headache finally reached migraine proportions, but he savagely repressed it as being extraneous. Quickly taking charge, he surveyed the crowd of scientists. "All right, everybody out! I need room to work!" What he really needed was to keep potential casualties to a minimum, and if he had to act the ogre to clear the room, well…he'd had lessons from an expert. Speaking of which…"And somebody find McKay and get him down here!" He didn't have the time or energy to argue with his irascible superior over the comm. The chemists caused this mess; they could face the Wrath of McKay.

Out of the corner of his eye he noted that Kavanagh was leaving with the rest. He halted the departing chief chemist in his tracks with a glare. "Not you. I need to know what happened here, Doctor." 

The pony-tailed scientist drew himself to his full height. That tactic had already failed to work on Zelenka once today, but the chemist appeared to be a slow learner. "As we could not get the assistance of the engineering department on this project, we opted to proceed ourselves."

'Sure, fix the fault for your incompetence on my team.' Zelenka sighed and, removing his glasses, pinched the bridge of his nose tiredly between two fingers before replacing them. "Fine, fine. You want to blame me for this debacle. Whatever. Just tell me what you did."

Kavanagh cleared his throat nervously. He had expected Radek to become defensive and storm out, allowing him to leave as well. However, it seemed as if the Czech wanted to actually salvage something. He pointed to the nearest side, "We postulated that this was a form of Ancient spectrometer, and if so, it could cut the work time in half on several of our projects. There was a switch here…" 

The partially molten object chose that moment to spark menacingly, causing both scientists to jump back in alarm. Zelenka quickly peered beneath the table, gasping at the power cord still connected to the wall. Striking like a snake, he immediately yanked it out, almost falling over in the process.

Dragging himself upright, he leaned heavily against the table until a wave of vertigo passed, then looked over at the taller man incredulously. "You didn't even unplug it?!?"

Kavanagh spluttered incoherently, clearly embarrassed. Zelenka, exhausted, closed his eyes and held up a hand for silence. "Nevermind. Let's see what we can do…" He leaned forward and peered closely at what was once a faceplate and immediately lost himself in study, forgetting everything around him. He produced a set of probes from an inner pocket of his jacket, then gingerly approached the machine. Kavanagh leaned over his shoulder for a better view.

However, before he could begin his diagnostics, the device shot up a shower of sparks that caused both men to leap backwards in alarm. More smoke billowed upwards before the mechanism decided, once and for all, to turn itself inside out. The resulting explosion blew both men to the ground, blasting shrapnel out in all directions, shattering beakers and obliterating experiments throughout the room. Zelenka cowered face-down on the floor, curled into as small a ball as possible, covering his head protectively with his arms. Debris rained down for a few minutes following the initial explosion, causing both scientists to stay covered even after the room had finally quieted.

Kavanagh was the first to poke up his head. "What did you do?" he demanded imperiously.

That was it; Radek had had enough. "What did I do?" he asked incredulously, climbing painfully to his feet. "What did I do?!?" He glared at the taller man. "I made the mistake of answering your distress call. Trust me, that error will not be repeated in the future!"

Kavanagh raised a finger, ready to argue a point, but was cowed by a glare from the Czech. Instead, he contented himself with muttering, "This will all be in my report."

"Go right ahead." Radek didn't even spare him a glance as he returned to the lab table. He superficially examined the mound of molten slag, taking care not to even think about touching it. 

"What do you think?" hazarded Kavanagh after a minute. The engineer shrugged expressively. "After careful consideration….I deem this to be a very, very old device which has recently undergone a thorough metamorphosis into….complete garbage. Throw it away when it cools down."

Waving the smoke from his face, he coughed and headed towards the door. Now that the emergency was over, his nausea returned with a vengeance. The thick haze that still hung in the room despite the air filters was also not aiding his vertigo, and the room canted wildly as he activated the door control. 'I guess I'd better go see Beckett,' he thought resignedly, finally admitting his own human frailty.

Unfortunately, the door did not open at his command. Glancing up, he hit the control a second time, with the same results.

"What's wrong with the door?" Kavanagh demanded hovering behind the Czech, anxious to leave the chamber himself.

"The control is broken." As quick as thought, he had the panel off to inspect the internal components. Kavanagh crowded in behind the smaller man even though he had no idea what he was looking at. Zelenka looked upwards in disgust. "You happy with the view?" he demanded.

Kavanagh didn't reply, but did back up slightly. A few moments of uninterrupted work, and he withdrew the shattered crystal. Sighing, he shook his head, "We won't be opening the door from this side."

"What? Why not?" Kavanagh panicked, grabbing Zelenka and swinging him around to face him. The sudden unexpected movement was too much for the engineer's beleaguered stomach, which finally decided to relieve itself of its meager contents all over Kavanagh's shoes.

3\. On the Other Hand…

"That's disgusting!," exclaimed Kavanagh, leaping backwards away from the heaving scientist. Staring at his bespattered footwear, he ranted, "Do you have any idea what these cost? They're ruined! You'll pay…"

Zelenka zoned him out as inconsequential at that point; he was too miserable to do anything else. The violent projectile vomitus was followed by several minutes of dry heaving, during which time the engineer's knees turned to jello. Sagging to all fours, he remained on his knees long after the retching abated in the hopes that he could settle his stomach enough to put some distance between himself and his regurgitated breakfast. The very smell was making him gag.

During this time Kavanagh had stayed pointedly on the opposite side of the room, still complaining loudly rather than help his ailing colleague. "…And if I come down with so much as a sniffle I'll have you up on charges for…for endangering government property!"

Deciding that his head was throbbing too much to deal with the current number-one-ranked individual on his 'To Place In Front of an Initializing Stargate for the Good of Humanity' List, Zelenka opted instead to contact 'The Ego That Lived'. As he activated his mike, he reflected that he tended to be quite…uncharitable…when he felt poorly.

"Doctor McKay, can you hear me?" he asked in a voice that sounded pathetic even to his own ears.

"Yes, Radek. Busy. What do you need?" McKay snapped.

"When will you arrive at the Chemlab?"

"Why would I want to go there?" The derision dripped from his words. 

Zelenka closed his eyes tightly as fury momentarily overwhelmed misery; none of those slime-eating sons of seasnakes had talked to McKay. "Because…" Radek explained through gritted teeth, "I told one of the fleeing chemists to notify you." He took advantage of his stomach's temporary stability long enough to scoot back to where he could lean against a nice, cool wall.

Another voice cut in. "Sheppard here. Is there a problem I should know about?"

Kavanagh stopped his bellyaching long enough to key his own mike and accuse, "Well, when engineering refused our request…"

"…Dr. Kavanagh decided to try and obliterate the Chemlab on his own." Zelenka shot him a glare that promised mayhem when he felt better.

"Now wait just one…" objected Kavanagh.

"Is there anyone hurt?" That was Beckett. 'Don't these people have anything better to do?' thought Radek resignedly.

Taking a deep breath to keep from gagging again, he replied, "No, I managed to clear the room; only Kavanagh and I are left. However…" At that moment he lost his battle with his nausea and resumed his previous retching. This time all he managed to produce was a little foul-tasting bile. What he wouldn't give for some water to wash out his mouth! He didn't have the strength to stand any more, and reaching a sink was out of the question. Kavanagh was in no mood to render assistance, so he was stuck.

"You've got the same bug as most of your department. Hang tight, I'll be right there." Apparently he'd left his mike on during that escapade and Beckett had heard every nuance of sound. Zelenka's face colored in embarrassment; Weir had probably heard as well.

Swallowing dryly, he managed to choke out, "The last explosion damaged the door crystal; we cannot open it from this side."

A put-upon sigh from McKay. "On my way," he barked.

Fingering off the communicator, Radek closed his eyes and sagged against the soothingly cool bulkhead. Help would be here soon. Mentally he began cataloguing the projects that his team was about to become hopelessly behind on, then gave it up as too strenuous an exercise. Cracking open one eye, he noticed Kavanagh standing in a mirror position on the far side of the room, eyeing him as if he were a viper, but finally, blessedly silent. He allowed his eye to slide closed again and fervently hoped, for the sake of his own somersaulting stomach, that Kavanagh would stay that way.  
\--------------  
Glaring at the miserable engineer across the room as he spoke to his 'buddies' made Kavanagh feel a little better about his shoes, which were of course ruined. Why the heck couldn't the man just turn his head? Just no common decency, that's what.

And how could this be his fault? Sorry, but if Zelenka had just assigned the requested personnel to begin with, neither of them would be in this predicament. Clearly the blame rested with the Czech.

The pony-tailed man eyed the molten device warily, noting that the last explosion had taken out an adjacent laptop as well. No doubt that would come out of his department's budget. He ground his teeth in frustration.

Turning back to the other occupant of the room, he watched silently as Zelenka signed off and leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. He smirked in satisfaction, 'It's about time one of the 'Golden Boys' got what's coming to them.' Deciding that now was a good time to look at that door himself, he began to ease slowly in that direction, walking as quietly as he could in soggy shoes. Still, taking them off would be worse…He wrinkled his nose in disgust.

He reached the panel Radek had left open and, with a final sideways glance at the unconscious Czech leaning against the wall, began carefully pulling wires and circuitry from the recesses.  
\-------------  
'For the love of….What the HECK has Kavanagh done now?' Rodney fumed as he shut down his laptop and unplugged its connections. Pointing to another scientist across the aisle, he snapped, "Johnson. You're with me," as he snagged the small emergency toolkit perched on the edge of his workstation. Then he was striding out the door at a not-quite-run, wanting to get to the Chemlab and strangle the American who had interrupted his project. 

As the two men hurried down the corridor, Rodney fumed, 'That misbegotten son of an orangutan! Couldn't he tell this morning that Radek was under the weather? Why'd he call him instead of me?' Of course he knew the reason; the chemist was afraid of McKay, and not of Zelenka. 'We'll soon see about that!'

Of course, he had to admit that Radek looked far from threatening, especially that morning; in fact, he looked more like an extra from the most recent filming of "Night of the Living Dead". Even at breakfast he'd been far from his normal chipper self. Rodney suddenly recalled the vague nausea on the man's face at his own piled-high platter; he'd thought that it was just a comment on his dietary habits. 'Damn you, Radek, if you're sick, say so! You're not Superman!'

He flashed back to the way Radek had 'zoned out' during the staff meeting, and had to be told about Kavanagh's request. 'Kavanagh is such an imbecile!' he thought as he quickened his pace.

Arriving at Chemlab, he noted Sheppard and two Marines approaching from the opposite side of the hallway. "Stick around," he instructed tersely. "You my have to keep me from killing a chemist." With that he produced a screwdriver and began disassembling the wall panel that controlled the door.   
\--------------  
"Hang tight, I'll be right there." Carson flicked off his mike, and turned to two nearby orderlies. "Reeves, Hewitt - grab a gurney, IV fluids and a line, then meet me down in Chemlab!" He snatched his emergency medical kit off the shelf and was out the door at a jog; if nothing else he had a shot of Phenergan with him he could administer IM for the vomiting.

He scowled at the tight knot of worry that settled in his stomach. "Och, lad, why didn't you just come see me when you first felt ill?" From the other patients he knew there was a four-to-six hour prodrome where one felt feverish, nauseous, and dizzy, mostly due to the dehydration. Some of the more stubborn individuals managed to persist in working anyway, until they literally started uncontrolled vomiting or lost consciousness completely. He sighed and shook his head; very few people on Atlantis knew this about the slight Czech, but he was worse than Sheppard about admitting when he was ill and could give Rodney a run for his money when it came to sheer stubbornness about staying at work. If Radek had reached the vomiting stage, his circulatory volume must be critically low; he could potentially have circulatory collapse and die. Taking water by mouth without an anti-emetic would just result in further retching; Zelenka needed IV fluids and a nice overnight stay in the infirmary.

"Hopefully Rodney can open that door," he murmured as he joined the crowd gathering outside Chemlab.

Sheppard greeted him. "Hey, doc. Glad you could join the party." 

Carson gave him a smile. "Wouldn't miss it for the world. How's it going there?" He pointed to where Rodney had the door access panel off and was rooting around inside the Ancient technology.

"It'd go a lot faster if everyone would just shut up," griped Rodney past the screwdriver he held in his mouth.

Suddenly they heard a muffled explosion on the other side of the door, while simultaneously a shower of sparks flew out of the circuitry Rodney was working on. He yelped as the fingers of his right hand flew to his mouth and he began hopping up and down in a circle, cursing incoherently. 

"What the…" Sheppard began, then keyed his mike. "Zelenka, what's going on in there?" As he spoke he watched Beckett manhandle Rodney's burnt fingers out of his mouth and set about examining them.  
\-----------------  
"Ah-ha!" chortled Kavanagh in satisfaction as he isolated the wires that led to the fractured crystal. "Who needs Zelenka or McKay? All I have to do is connect these two wires…" He sent a disparaging look towards the still-sleeping engineer, and started uncomfortably as he realized how very…ill…the man appeared. Head tilted backwards to rest against the wall at an unpleasant angle, his mouth hung open in a most…unbecoming fashion. A thin sheen of sweat glistened on the pallid exposed skin surfaces, with enough accumulating at the base of his neck and in his armpits to actually saturate his clothes. His entire body would have fallen over if it hadn't been propped up by a protuberance in the wall, and his legs were splayed akimbo with limp arms resting on his thighs. The chemist shook himself and returned to the task at hand, swearing, "So help me, Zelenka, if I come down with this crap…" 

Fumbling in his front right jacket pocket, he produced a small two-bladed pocket-knife, which he used to strip the insulation off the wires. Once done, he triumphantly held up the two exposed ends. "Well, here goes…" with that he touched the two wires together.

A flash and a 'bang!' from the wall caused him to drop the connection and cover his head as the panel exploded outwards, showering him with shrapnel for the second time in under an hour. Wincing, he thought he heard a cry of pain on the other side of the still-closed door, but he couldn't be certain. Sheppard's angry demand of "Zelenka, what's going on in there?" caused his eyes to dart to the ashen man still out cold against the wall. No way to blame him; no one would believe that he could stand long enough to sneeze, much less rewire the door.

In the most imperious tone he could muster, he decided to use Radek in a different fashion and keyed his mike. "This is Doctor Kavanagh; Doctor Zelenka is indisposed right now. In fact, I was so concerned about him that I tried to open this door myself. You people are having a picnic out there!" 

The words "…a picnic out there!" filtered over the open channel, causing Rodney to jerk his hand away from the physician and lunge at the bulkhead in a blind rage. Sheppard and Johnson intercepted him by snagging him under the armpits, but his momentum was so great that his feet almost flew out from under him.

"Let me go!" he demanded. "I'll rip the door open with my bare hands just so I can repeat the action with his limbs!"

"Your hands have had quite enough damage today, thank you," interjected Beckett, frowning and retrieving McKay's right one. "These are first and second degree burns on your fingertips; fortunately they are small, so they should heal with minimal scarring, but they'll be quite tender for the next few days." He let go as Rodney jerked it away.

Throwing an arm over McKay's shoulders, Sheppard tried to calm him. "Come on, Rodney, this isn't helping Radek…"

"No, but it's making me feel better!" McKay irritably shrugged off the familiar touch.

"Speaking of Radek…" murmured Carson, who activated his mike. "Doctor Kavanagh, is Doctor Zelenka conscious?"

A pause followed, during which time the group of rescuers exchanged worried glances. "No, not since he got off the radio. I think he's asleep."

"Let him rest then, lad," instructed Beckett in a reassuring tone. Flipping off his comm, he turned suddenly-serious eyes towards Sheppard. "Colonel, we need to get in there. Knowing Radek, he was probably already exhausted when this thing hit him, and he's going to go into shock soon from dehydration."

McKay turned round, saucer-shaped eyes towards the physician. In a hushed tone he asked, "Is it really that serious?"

Beckett sighed, not wanting to alarm anyone unnecessarily but not wanting to underestimate the problem, either. "I won't know until I get in there, but…aye lad, it could be."

4\. Rescue

A knot of worry curled in McKay's gut and made itself at home. He couldn't imagine life on Atlantis without Zelenka to bounce ideas off and critique them. The Czech's acerbic wit at staff meetings was all the more amusing because half the room didn't understand the joke. Setting his mouth to a grim line of determination, he took a deep, steadying breath and approached the open panel, blowing on his fingertips in anticipation. "All right, let's try this again. Hopefully without the help of the trained chimp in the other room." He noticed Sheppard giving one of the Marines instructions in a low tone, and watched as the man departed at a jog.

Narrowing his eyes, he demanded, "What did you just tell him to do?"

Shoving his hands in his pockets, the colonel pointed to the door with his chin. "We have to get to Zelenka sooner rather than later; if Kavanagh's fried the wiring, I want an alternative. I sent Sgt. McLaughlin to get some C-4…just in case."

"What, you doubt my ability to open a door?" huffed Rodney, offended.

John pointed to the charred wall. "No, I just wonder if there's enough unfried wiring left for you to work with."

McKay had to admit that he had a point. His eyes widened as he snapped the fingers of his non-injured hand, then wagged his index finger at John. "You know, that just might keep Urko's dumber brother away from the controls on the other side of that door…" 

Tapping his mike, he said, "Kavanagh? Sheppard's sent for C-4 to blow open this door if I can't bypass the damage. You need to get to the other side of the room, preferably under some sort of cover." Turning off the transmitter he smirked, then set to work using almost exclusively his left hand. 

Beckett and his orderlies gathered together in a group next to the stretcher waiting for anyone to open the door so they could retrieve their patient. Sheppard and the Marines stood nearby, watching quietly as Rodney worked literally single-handed. Johnson handed him requested tools and lent a hand whenever two were required.

Beckett was just about to insist on blowing the door when it suddenly whooshed open accompanied by a cry of triumph from McKay. Grinning over at Sheppard, he chortled, "See? Piece of cake." His smile faded as the medical personnel rushed past; he'd concentrated so hard on the challenge that he'd forgotten why it was important.

As they entered the lab, Kavanagh jumped up from where he'd been taking cover behind a counter on the far side of the room. "I thought you were using explosives…" he began, but the group unanimously ignored him and concentrated their attention on the slumped form against the near wall. "Hey! I have a right to know…" The chemist trailed off as he realized that no one was listening to his demands, then snorted and left the room in a huff. No one noticed him go.

Zelenka had listed sideways, head bent forward with his chin resting on his left chest. While his hair was plastered down with sweat, his skin had become clammy and the hunched form shivered uncontrollably at odd intervals. Beckett squatted next to the miserable engineer and noted his rapid, shallow breathing as he lay a gentle hand on his shoulder and motioned for the gurney to come closer.

"Radek, lad, open yer eyes for me."

Radek started, blinking in befuddlement. Staring owlishly at the physician through lopsided glasses, he tried to push himself upright. "Doctor Beckett…"

"Aye, right the first time." The doctor proceeded to take his pulse and blood pressure, then smiled reassuringly. "What say we get you to the infirmary?"

Radek gulped and nodded anxiously, gesturing to the mess on the floor nearby. "I am afraid that I…" He trailed off uncomfortably, embarrassed by his own weakness.

"Don't you worry about that; I have some medicine that'll make you right as rain." He gestured for his medic to bring over his IV equipment as Sheppard dismissed his own men and wandered over as well.

"So, how is he, doc?" he asked, trying to keep the worry out of his voice.

Getting a good blood return and dialing the fluids wide open, Beckett had a reassuring smile for the colonel as well. "Nothing wrong that a little rest and fluids won't cure." He hung the IV bag in the pole attached to the gurney, then turned to the prostrate engineer. "Now Radek, I'm going to give you some medicine to take away a lot of the nausea, but it'll make you sleepy, all right? Then we're going to lift you onto the gurney and take you to a real bed."

Radek nodded shakily in relief; 'sleepy' sounded heavenly. The physician produced the phenergan from his kit and administered it slowly to minimize the burning. Due to the Czech's blood pressure he could only safely give him a half dose, but Radek started slurring his speech almost immediately. "Thas…good," he mumbled, and Carson smiled paternally.

"All right boys, careful now. Let's get him on the gurney." The orderlies gently lifted a drowsing Radek by the shoulders and knees, depositing him on the stretcher. Pulling up a blanket and securing the safety belt, Beckett nodded. "Let's go." Turning to Sheppard, he added, "You can come by later and check on him if you want, but he'll probably be sleeping."

John smiled. "I'll do that." He watched as the gurney transporting the softly snoring engineer left the room, physician in tow.

Turning to where McKay and Johnson huddled at an adjacent workstation, the colonel's curiosity got the better of him. He peered over their shoulders at a piece of molten modern art that had no apparent redeeming value whatsoever. "What the heck it that supposed to be?" he finally had to ask.

Rodney shot him a look of disgust. "That's supposed to be an Ancient mass spectrometer; now it's just so much garbage. I suspect Kavanagh didn't want to wait for the engineering department to get up to full strength and decided he could do the job himself."

Sheppard stared at the molten mass, sizing up the possibilities. "So….nothing to salvage?"

McKay snorted, "Colonel, if you need a really ugly doorstop, it's all yours. Now I'd like to get back to my real work, if you don't mind." Retrieving his tools and his colleague, Rodney huffed out of the Chemlab, boding ill for anyone who got in his way.

\------------

Hours later, after most of the base had gone to sleep, Rodney peeked his head around the edge of the infirmary door. Noting a light on in Carson's makeshift office at the far end of the ward, he tiptoed past the row of slumbering patients, noting the face of each one. Finally reaching Radek, he paused and stared at him from the foot of the bed. He'd purposefully not looked when they first entered Chemlab for fear that he really would kill Kavanagh, but the chemist was now probably safely in is own bed and in no immediate danger from irate physicists.

The Czech looked somehow…smaller…laying there softly snoring. Despite the closed eyes, Rodney could see the distinct lines of stress in the drawn features; lines that he knew he could see in his own mirror if he allowed himself to look. The dark circles set into the too-pale face spoke of more than just a 'viral gastroenteritis'; they were the reflection of too many late nights and impossible deadlines, of one emergency piled on the next. They were the price of Atlantis' survival, and could be seen on the visage of every scientist in his department.

He snorted involuntarily. 'Except Kavanagh. He seems well rested.'

Even the small sound disturbed the sleeping engineer, hypervigilant from the very act of living in this city with its constant threats. Moaning slightly, the arm with the IV came up to join the other that rested on the blanket covering his chest. Rodney held his breath as Radek settled down again, his breathing evening out in slumber.

"He looks odd without his glasses, doesn't he?"

Rodney jumped wide-eyed straight into the air, startled by the unexpected murmur. "Carson…" he hissed, only to be silenced by the physician putting a finger to his lips in a 'shhing' gesture. He then crooked a finger for Rodney to follow him back to his workspace in the well-lighted alcove.

Once there, Beckett addressed him in low tones. "I didn't want to wake him; he needs his rest." He neglected to add, 'And so do you,' since he knew the rebuke would fall on deaf ears.

Rodney was disturbed. 'He looks so…vulnerable. It's just wrong. Radek is one of the strongest men I know."

Carson smiled paternally. "Wait until he wakes up; he'll look better with a good night's sleep and a couple of liters of fluid."

Rodney was hesitant, recalling the still form. "Are you sure he'll be all right?"

Carson clapped a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Well, medicine's not an exact science, but he should feel better in the morning. Not well enough to discharge, mind you, but better." So saying, he gave McKay a small shove towards the door. "Off wi' ye. Go get some sleep yourself; you could use it."

McKay nodded absently and beelined back to his own quiet lab, where he could finally get some work done.

5\. Recovery

Morning came, as it usually did, bright and cheery with a cloudless sky. O'Banyon covered engineering at the morning briefing, and reported the decimation of the department to less than half strength. On the plus side, the first two people stricken had been released from the infirmary and would be back at work in a few days. On the minus side, three people from botany and one from chemistry were now out with the same bug. The next week promised to be…challenging.  
.   
After the meeting Rodney decided to swing by the infirmary and check on Radek before he hit the lab. Entering Beckett's domain proved difficult as well. As the doors slid open, McKay took an involuntary step back into the corridor as his senses were momentarily overwhelmed. In contrast to a few hours earlier, the room was now a cacophony of sight, sound, and smell. The first thing Rodney noticed was the stench; apparently the new arrivals hadn't all received their anti-emetics yet. Next was the noise - his ears were literally assailed with a dissonance of moans, groans, pleas for help, and retching. As far as his eyes could see every bed and cot was filled with miserable people with IV's in their arms with white-coated personnel flitting between them like crazed dragonflies. It seemed the virus had now hit the military population as well.

Clapping a hand over his nose and mouth, McKay wound his way through the melee, making his way towards where he had last seen his friend. Unfortunately, once he reached the right bed, some marine whose name he didn't know was lying there instead. Ignoring the little bells of alarm ringing in his head he thought, 'That's funny. O'Banyon didn't mention that Radek had been released.' He shrugged. 'Maybe he didn't know.'

Snagging the arm of a passing nurse, he demanded, "Where's Dr. Zelenka? In his quarters?"

Rodney was unprepared for the look of profound sympathy he received. He might not pay much attention to expressions and body language on the whole, but this one penetrated and didn't bode well. The woman merely replied, "I'll get Dr. Beckett for you" in a calm voice that was meant to be reassuring but instead sent chills up his spine.

"Nevermind. I'll find him myself," he snapped, trying to quell his rising panic by disguising it with anger. He whirled and stalked purposefully through the chaos, searching for the Scot.

Finally spotting the physician as he listened to a young man's lungs, he grabbed his elbow and forced him around. "Where is Radek?" he hissed, heedless of who overheard.

Beckett shot the unhappy patient a small smile and patted his hand. "I'll be right back," he reassured, then clenched Rodney's arm in a surprisingly-strong grip as he steered him to his 'office'. Once there, he turned to face the scientist, who by this time was certain that the Czech was dead.

Carson was a mind-reader, for the first words out of his mouth were, "No, no. Radek's not dead."

Wide-eyed, Rodney demanded, "Where is he then?"

Carson sighed, running a hand through his hair and perching tiredly on the corner of his desk. "We've created a temporary 'intensive care' across the hall for any patients that require extra monitoring."

"But you said last night that all he needed was some fluid and rest!" Rodney couldn't keep the note of betrayal from his tone.

Carson sighed and rubbed bloodshot eyes. "That's what I thought last night. But Doctor Zelenka has been pushing himself as hard as a certain physicist I could name, and his body is seriously depleted as a result. Therefore, he is much more seriously ill than I originally thought."

"But…he'll be all right?"

Carson grimaced, but forced himself to meet Rodney's gaze. "I hope so."

"That's hardly encouraging." Rodney's brows drew together in consternation. "Can I see him?"

Beckett nodded hesitantly. "Yes. But only for a minute." Standing, he led the way to a room on the other side of the corridor.

Radek looked even worse than the night before. Still unconscious, sweat coated his forehead as he moaned and thrashed weakly, fighting some unseen nightmare. A nurse hurriedly replaced a damp rag on the Czech's forehead as she took his blood pressure. The bedside monitor beeped reassuringly, but the engineer still looked like hell. Rounding on Carson, McKay accused, "I thought you said this was a 24-hour bug? Well, it's been more than twenty-four hours, and he looks worse than ever!"

Carson raised an eyebrow, refusing to rise to the bait. "I also recall saying that medicine's not an exact science. Unlike physics, there are thousands of unknown variables, not the least of which is the baseline condition of the patient affected." The nurse silently handed him Zelenka's clipboard; after glancing at the figures he returned it to her with a smile, then addressed McKay once more. "He's holdin' his own, Rodney. With luck he'll pull through." He clapped a hand to McKay's shoulder reassuringly, then left to tend his other charges.

McKay watched helplessly for a few minutes as the nurse tended his sick friend, then turned and escaped to his lab. 

\-------------

Radek drifted in a soft, hazy fog. He was vaguely aware of worried voices floating around his head, but he was too exhausted to care. Somewhere in the distance he recognized his nausea had abated, but it seemed…unimportant. What was important was that he was warm and safe and comfortable.

Familiar strident tones made a dent in his consciousness; the voice was worried about something. That was alarming enough to cause him to drift towards consciousness - when that voice worried, 'bad things' frequently occurred. Nevertheless, despite his best efforts, his eyelids remained firmly glued shut. 'Oh well…he'll have to manage without me this time…' he thought, then drifted away to the soft place again.

He had no idea how much time passed before awareness encroached again. At first he noticed a persistent beeping, then the sounds of a hushed argument. It was annoying. The more annoyed he became, the more his awareness of himself and his surroundings sharpened. He concentrated on the steady beep…beep…beep…that he vaguely recognized…'Oh, right. Heart monitor. The infirmary.' He was rather pleased to be able to string together that many thoughts in a coherent fashion. Now, about the ranting… Rifling through a mental rolodex he concluded, 'Doctor McKay is arguing with Doctor Beckett'. He tried to ignore it and slip back to that comfortable gray space, but finally gave up and cracked open one eye.

The two men stood at the foot of the bed in animated discussion, frequently gesturing in his direction. Beckett was the first to notice the patient's sleepy stare, and, grabbing McKay by the shoulders, physically swung him around to see.

Radek cleared his dry throat experimentally, then whispered, "Hello, Rodney." 

"You're awake!" McKay was not usually prone to state the obvious, but Radek refrained from commenting.

"Could I have some water?" he felt as pitiful as he probably looked, and his mouth was dry. He still had the nasty taste of his prior vomiting in the back of his throat and he really wanted to wash that away; however, to his relief he felt no urge to retch again.

"Sure, lad." Beckett poured some water into a glass and put a bendy-straw in place before holding it up to Radek. "There you go…take it slow now."

Radek pulled gratefully on the straw. The water was ambrosia, and a few sips managed to satisfy the need to clean his mouth. Once he had enough, he released it and lay back on the pillow with a sigh, turning his attention to his visitor. "Rodney. Why are you here?" He was curious; normally McKay didn't come within a mile of a communicable disease.

Putting on an arrogant air, Rodney replied, "I was just asking Carson when I could expect you back at work."

Radek could tell from the looks exchanged that the discussion was actually far different, but Beckett quickly caught on. "Oh, aye. Not for a few days yet. He's going to be our guest for the time being." He smiled down at Zelenka paternally and patted his hand.

McKay rocked on his heels uncomfortably. "Well…umm…getwellsoon," he mumbled, then scurried out of the room.

Beckett chuckled and shook his head as he watched Rodney depart. Turning back to Radek, he commented, "He's been worried about you."

Zelenka was touched. "So I gathered. Why else would he be here?" His last few words were distorted by a yawn.

Carson smiled. "You just get your beauty sleep now, and we'll talk in the morning." 

Radek nodded, exhausted, as his eyes flickered shut. 'Huh, imagine that. Someone actually cares.' With that reassuring thought, he slid into a healing sleep.

\---------------

The next morning Radek found himself moved into the main infirmary, where the outbreak was still in full force. The nurses scurried from one cot to the next, barely having time to greet the patient before being called away again. While LTC Sheppard and Dr. Weir both stopped by to check on his status, Rodney didn't reappear. 

'Not a surprise. Given his hypochondria, I'm amazed he visited at all.' Radek smiled to himself as he levered his weakened body into an upright position on the pillows, the better to reach his tray. He had graduated to a trial of clear liquids - Beckett told him that if he kept them down, he might be released to his quarters that evening. He managed two juices and a cup of blue jello, and hoped that would be enough.

Around eight, Carson managed to reach his bedside. He flipped through Radek's chart, nodding, then turned to him and asked, "So, would you like to sleep in your own bed tonight?"

Radek nodded emphatically. "I would like that very much," he replied.

"Did someone call for a Taxi?" 

Beckett grinned as a flabbergasted Zelenka turned to see John Sheppard pushing a wheelchair up to the opposite side of the bed. "Colonel! You don't need…"

"Oh, but I do. We're all family, aren't we?" The words warmed Radek like blankets never had.

Beckett signaled for a nurse to come over to take out his IV and help him get dressed. Despite a residual shakiness, Radek managed most of it himself, and was soon safely ensconced in the wheelchair.

"Now you take it easy for a few days - if you need meals brought to you, that can be arranged." Carson looked sternly at the Czech, knowing full well his tendency to 'not bother' others.

"I will manage." Zelenka blinked owlishly up at the physician, whose mouth quirked at the corner.

"Don't worry, doc, we'll take care of him," reassured Sheppard. Then, looking down at the seated engineer, "You ready to go?"

"Yes, thank you," Zelenka was looking forward to being back in his own room. The pilot steered the chair into the hall, waving goodbye to the infirmary.

As a whistling Sheppard wheeled the scientist down the corridor, Radek became curious. "Colonel, if you pardon my asking…why are you so cheerful?" 

"What? I'm not allowed to have a good day once in a while?" he responded in a mock-offended tone. Leaning in, he added conspiratorially, "Hey, I'm just glad I'm not the one escaping Beckett's clutches for a change!"

They shared a chuckle until Radek's brows creased in concern. "Um…Colonel? My quarters are in that direction…" He pointed backwards over his right shoulder at the corridor they just passed.

"I know. We're going to swing by the mess hall on the way."

"But I'm really not hungry…"

Sheppard shrugged. "So, we're going for the ambiance."

Radek smiled and leaned back to enjoy the ride. Clearly the pilot had a plan that would be revealed when he was ready, and not before. He sat up straighter as they entered the cafeteria, his curiosity getting the better of him. A murmur went up from a small group gathered around a table in the center of the room, which parted as they approached. Radek's gaze was riveted on the centerpiece, which looked vaguely familiar…a molten metal sculpture of dubious artistic merit…

Zelenka's eyes widened as he pointed at the object, twisting in his chair to stare at Sheppard. "Is that…that…what I think it is?" he stammered. One look at the 'cat-that-ate-the-canary' expression on the colonel's face was enough to confirm his suspicions; it was the device from the chemlab.

Rather than answering, John gestured with his chin. "Read the label, doc."

A smiling Miko, standing next to the table, picked up the card and shyly handed it to the Czech. Zelenka focused on the lettering, then read, "Ancient Technology - As Interpreted by Doctor Kavanagh". Radek snorted in appreciation, then handed back the card.

Sheppard smiled innocently. "It'll be on display in the mess hall all week for the public's enjoyment…Funny thing, but I haven't seen the artist since his one-man-show opened."

Radek unsuccessfully tried to cover his blossoming smile with his hand, pretending to cough. "I only hope that the response is such that he…decides to give up art."

"Yes, well, maybe he should stick to chemistry rather than branching into other fields." McKay had arrived, and interjected his two-cents worth. 

"That would be best," Radek concurred. Tentatively he added, "When the 'exhibit' is over, could I have it?"

The colonel smirked. "It's all yours. Now let's get you to your quarters before Beckett nails my hide to the wall for having you out after curfew." So saying, he spun the wheelchair around and pointed towards Radek's quarters.

Zelenka sat back with a satisfied sigh to enjoy the ride. It was nice to be family.

The End


End file.
